So, the big Exodus International conference starts today. I was thinking about shirking my thespian responsibilities and sneaking up for it. I mean, call me a dacryphiliac, but I don’t think there’s anything more arousing than a tearful, late-night coming-out, followed by hours of tearful, we-shouldn’t-be-doing-this, shockingly hot monkey love with someone who thinks he’s confused about his sexuality.
Then I read the conference’s Code of Conduct policy–specifically the part that prohibits attendees from “seeking sexual contacts.” So, I guess that’s out. I mean, why waste $300 when I could just as easily live out my Lothario fantasy with a self-hating closet-case by moseying up to the Louisiana Republican Party Headquarters?
sturtle [dot] com 